


Training Exercise

by orphean



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 03:39:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16009517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphean/pseuds/orphean
Summary: Hayes and Reed are on an alien planet, preparing for a training exercise. When Reed falls into the river, Hayes has to keep him warm.





	Training Exercise

Major Hayes and Lieutenant Malcolm Reed were on a planet somewhere in the Expanse. They had spent the day traversing the terrain, preparing for a joint exercise between the _Enterprise_ crew and the MACOs. The planet was uninhabited, and the conditions were perfect for a field training. Hayes had a sneaking suspicion that Archer had sent them down together for them to improve their working relationship. Thus far, the trip had been uneventful. They had been beamed down a few hours earlier, and the next morning their respective crews were due to touch down in the shuttle pods. Hayes didn’t really like the transporter, the feeling of being ripped apart and pieces back together, but if Reed didn’t complain, neither would he.

‘Everything’s good here, Captain. We’re heading back to camp. I look forward to the training exercises tomorrow, sir.’ Reed was several yards ahead, reporting to Archer. They were walking next to a narrow river, following the path back toward where they’d set up camp. He held the communicator close to his face. Hayes couldn’t hear the captain’s response. ‘Of course not, sir. Reed out.’

Reed flipped the communicator shut and turned back to look over at Hayes. This was when he fell into the river.

One moment, Reed was on dry land. The next, the shore seemed to crumble beneath him and he toppled into the river. His head dipped under water and he seemed to find it hard to keep above the surface. He was flailing to stay afloat, the river pulling him away. He was not going to get out of the river by himself.

Hayes swore as he tore off his jacket, his shirt, kicking off his shoes and pants and diving in after the flailing Lieutenant. The water was cold – no, it was _freezing –_ and Hayes found himself cursing Reed for not watching his footing as he felt the chill seep into his skin for each moment he stayed down. He reached Reed and dragged him back to shore, his body heavier than expected. He kicked and fought, but Hayes suspected it was more against the water than him. He pulled him up on land and Reed was coughing, spitting water and repeating under his breath a plea of _oh God, oh God, oh God._ There was a cut on his forehead, a thin rivulet of blood running down his face. That could wait until they got back to camp. His clothes were a greater danger right now.

‘Sir? You need to get out of that uniform.’ A small part of Hayes felt foolish for ordering his superior to strip, but he got the impression that Reed was not quite aware what was happening. He looked up, his eyes wide and shocked, and Hayes could tell he was in no shape to take care of himself. ‘Sir, I’ll be back in a moment.’

They had reached land less than a hundred yard from where Reed had fallen in, and less than a minute later, Hayes had pulled on his boots and trousers again, bringing his shirt and uniform jacket to Reed. He kneeled at his side and began to unzip his uniform. This was something Hayes had thought about a lot – yes, maybe fantasised. There were nights when he imagined that Reed’s hostility was hiding a secret affection and that when Hayes put his hands on him, he would shiver in anticipation. Reed was shivering, that was true, but it was from cold and nothing else. He barely moved as Hayes peeled his arms out of the jumpsuit and he didn’t protest when Hayes started unlacing his boots.

‘Put this on. No, take your undershirt off first.’ Reed had started to put the uniform jacket on over his soaked shirt, but dropped it and, with shivering fingers, pulled off his undershirt. Hayes returned his attention to his shoes, the laces having expanded in the water and hard to undo. When he finally managed, he pulled them up and, with more than a little difficulty, extracted Reed from his jumpsuit. ‘The terrain is rough enough that I think you’ll need to wear your boots, even though they’re soaked.’

‘Major, I’m not –‘ Reed paused to exhale hard, his breath vibrating with cold. He didn’t protest when Hayes put his shoes back on and accepted the hand he offered.

Their camp was less than a quarter mile away, though their progress was hampered by the mass of wet clothes Hayes carried and Reed’s sometime wavering walk. After the third time Hayes stopped to wait for him to catch up, he placed an arm around his back and led him the rest of the way. Reed didn’t complain. This, more than anything, made Hayes worry. Once they got to camp, he looked him in the face, checking his pupils for any sign of a concussion. He looked disoriented, but not concussed.

‘Lieutenant.’ Reed focused on Hayes’ face, pushing against the hand Hayes had placed on his face. ‘Go to your tent. Take your clothes off and get into your sleeping bag. Okay? I’ll be there in a moment to check on the cut on your forehead, right?’

‘The – the communicator.’ Reed swallowed. ‘Did you get the communicator?’

‘Casualty of war, sir. Now, your tent.’ He was grateful Reed had insisted on pitching the tents before their final reconnaissance of the day. He watched him slowly walk to his tent. The communicator was lost. They had no way to contact Enterprise. There wouldn’t be another check-in before there training began tomorrow. They were alone until then. They’d have to make it on their own. This was fine. Hayes had enough training to take care of one very cold soldier for one night. Even if that soldier happened to be Malcolm Reed.

A few minutes later, Hayes ducked into the lieutenant’s tent, armed with a first aid kit, a flashlight and a towel. He kneeled by Reed’s head, tilting his head to get a better look at the cut. Reed flinched when he turned on the flashlight.

‘This’ll just take a moment. It might sting a little.’ He squeezed his eyes shut as Hayes cleaned and bandaged the cut. ‘All better. Here, dry your hair off.’ Reed accepted the towel and had soon got the worst of the water out of his hair. ‘Let me check your temperature.’

The thermometer beeped and Hayes looked at the number before he started taking his clothes off. He had hoped he wouldn’t have to do this.

‘What are you doing?’ Reed sounded alarmed and began to sit up, revealing pale skin and sinewy muscles.

‘You’re cold. Body heat is the best thing we’ve got to heat you up.’ Hayes took off his boots and unzipped his trousers. He could see the hint of a blush blossom on Reed’s face.

‘I’m – I’m not wearing clothes!’

‘Come on, sir. I don’t want doctor Phlox to write me off for being derelict of duty. If you’d rather, I’ll keep my trousers on.’ Hayes didn’t want to admit it, but the water had left him cold as well, and the fact that this was the only opportunity he would ever get to touch Reed’s body played a part, too. He didn’t feel proud about that part.

‘Alright.’ Reed had turned over, his face to the wall of the tent. ‘If you have to.’

Hayes hesitated.

‘I’ll be back in a moment, sir.’ In his own tent, he rummaged in his bag until he found what he was looking for. He unscrewed the hip flask and took a sip. Maybe a little stale, but it was passable. He returned to Reed’s tent and put it next to him, where he lay curled, his face to the wall.

‘What’s that?’

‘Liquid courage.’

‘Courage?’ Reed huffed but leaned up on his elbow to reach the flask, putting it to his lips. Hayes couldn’t quite equate the strength he knew Reed had with that lithe body, all bone and lean muscle. His back was pale and Hayes wondered if it was the cold, or if that was really what his skin looked like. Reed coughed after swallowing an impressive sip of the alcohol, holding the flask up for Hayes to drink. ‘I guess you have to be courageous to drink that. What is it?’

‘Moonshine,’ Hayes replied, closing the flask and placing it on the ground. He untied his boots and, slipping out of his socks, crawled into the sleeping bag. ‘I didn’t bring it for the flavour.’

His skin was soft and cold. His chest against Reed’s back, Hayes was suddenly intensely aware of how acutely every movement would be felt. And, for that matter, what was he supposed to do with his arms? After a moment’s pause, he rested his head on his forearm and swung his over arm over Reed’s side. The justification, if he asked for it, was to increase skin-to-skin contact.

Ever since the first they met, Hayes was certain their bodies would fit perfectly. Now, he made every effort not to test this theory, letting his chin come up to Reed’s shoulder and no higher. If he only leaned in, he could kiss his shoulder blade. Maybe he’d even be able to explain it away. Maybe he’d get a black eye. He’d deserve it. It would be worth it. Unlike Hayes, Reed was naked. He tried not to think about that.

Every muscle in Reed’s body was taut. Was he always like this or was it a reaction – an adverse reaction – to Hayes’ closeness?

‘So why’d you bring it along?’ The question caught Hayes off-guard, and Reed correctly interpreted the exhale against his skin. ‘The booze. Do you always keep a flask in your mission bag?’

‘I do. You never know when it’ll come in handy. Usually I end up using it as disinfectant.’ Reed snorted.

‘No argument there.’

They didn’t speak for a long time. Hayes didn’t mind the silence. He focused on Reed’s breathing, the long inhales and exhales pushing him closer and further away. Little by little, Reed relaxed his body, his muscles no longer taunt. He was warming up.

‘It’s ironic, really.’ Reed had been so quiet that Hayes had thought he had fallen asleep.

‘What is?’

‘Figures it’d be you. This is the longest I’ve been close to someone since – oh, I can’t remember.’

‘I find that hard to believe.’ Of all the things he could have said, that might have been the dumbest. He blamed the moonshine.

‘Really?’ Reed scoffed again, but the question hung between them. He gave himself a moment to gather his thoughts.

‘I just mean – you’re a good looking man and I’m sure there are lots of people who’d go for that accent of yours.’ _God_ how that accent distracted Hayes. It was all clipped vowels and sharp consonants. It was an accent that reeked of confidence and disdain, and Hayes wished he would _speak_ to him.

He felt the chuckle travel through Reed’s body.

‘No one I’d want to be close to would ever want me.’ This was more direct, more honest, than anything Hayes would have expected from him. He wanted to thank him for saying this but, opening his mouth, the words wouldn’t come. He wondered if Reed was bothered by the hot breath against his shoulder. He hadn’t expected him to speak. ‘How about you? Do you have anyone back home?’

‘No.’ Hayes shifted, his eyes now level with Reed’s neck, admiring his hairline, as immaculate as always. He exhaled. Maybe he imagined it, but he thought he felt a shiver run down the lieutenant’s back. ‘No one I’d want to be close to would ever want me.’

Just a few weeks ago, he had echoed Reed’s words without even thinking about it. _You intend to shoot me?_ This time, the repetition was intentional. Without crossing any barrier, without breaking any regulations, he wanted to show him that they were one and the same. For all their differences, there was little they didn’t share.

Movement. Reed had turned over, facing him. Hayes’ arm was still slumped over him. Should he move it? He let it stay. Reed had propped his head up on the heel of his hand, making Hayes’ hand drop to rest against the dip of his waist. Neither seemed to have anything to say. Reed licked his lips and studied Hayes. Hayes waited, not breaking eye contact.

‘How much was in that flask?’

‘Four ounces.’ He was going to say that it was unlikely they had drunk all that – flasks being deceptively slow to drink from – but something kept him silent.

‘And-‘ Reed swallowed, his eyes roving, ‘hypothermia can cause poor judgement, can’t it?’

‘I don’t think it was bad enough for hypothermia.’ Now that he didn’t have Reed’s back against him, his chest felt cold. He thought he knew where Reed was going with this, but surely he wasn’t. Surely he wouldn’t?

‘Hypothetically.’ Reed insisted, every vowel pronounced.

‘Hypothetically.’ Hayes agreed, every other vowel smoothed over.

Reed’s fingers were cold against his skin, pushing his hair out of his face. Hayes closed his eyes, however incriminating that made his reaction.

‘Thank you for getting me out of the water.’

‘It’s part of the job.’ God, how his voice shook. He opened his eyes and Reed’s face was different, open and questioning and inciting. He couldn’t make the first move. But he could watch him, and he could hope.

Reed’s hand on his neck was gentle but his lips against his were anything but. It was a statement and a question. _Here I am. Where are you?_ When Hayes opened his mouth to the kiss, Reed pulled away.

They looked at each other. Hayes still had his hand resting on Reed’s side, and he thought he could feel the blood course through his veins, his heart beating fast. Or maybe it was just his own heart, racing from a single kiss. Neither of them broke the gaze. Finally, Reed spoke.

‘It’s a way to keep warm, isn’t it?’

Hayes decided that was the invitation he needed. Reed yielded when he kissed him, his hands in his hair, pulling him closer and answering his kisses with gasps and whimpers. He laid back when Hayes climbed on top of him, eyes large and hands reaching for him. Hayes kissed his way down his neck and Reed dug his nails into his skin, the breath he released ragged and joyful.

In the fantasies Hayes had found himself imagining on nights when sleep would not come, kissing came before undressing. Reed would beg before he unzipped the jumpsuit, each layer removed revealing more desperation. That wasn’t how it was. Reed was already naked. Hayes was on his knees, not touching the naked body beneath him. He was hesitant. He expected rejection. A part of him told him that if he touched him, if he ran his fingers down that lean body, Reed would decide this was a mistake.

Reed had no such qualms, his hands tracing down his chest, his back, his arms, dragging his nails over his skin and tugging him closer. His hands came to rest on Hayes’ thighs and he pushed down, bringing their bodies together. Hayes could feel Reed’s cock against his own, separated by his uniform. Reed bucked his hips and it was Hayes’ turn to gasp.

‘Take them off.’

He shuffled back and undid his trousers. Reed watched him with wide eyes as he stripped and, on hands and knees, returned to him. In his fantasies, Hayes had been the one in control. He called the shots and Reed obeyed. The reality was different. Malcolm Reed would never take orders from him.

It was a battle for control as much as it was sex. They didn’t speak, communicating only in grunts and moans and hands pulling the other closer. Nails ran down skin, scraping and caressing. Reed grasped them both with his long fingers and Hayes bit his lip to keep silent. He thought he could see the ghost of a smile on Reed’s face before he leaned down to claim another kiss. He bit and kissed his way down his chest and Hayes forgot how to breathe when Reed ran his tongue up his cock. He brought him to the brink before he pulled back. Hayes was gripping the blanket and praying he would last. Reed’s raspy chuckle was loud in the silence. When Hayes got him on his back – a brief tussle of playful fighting instead of a real struggle – he dipped his head and took him in his mouth, and Reed’s sharp exhale made him pause. A hand in his hair, pushing down, told him to continue.

When Reed pulled him up again, kissing and biting and gasping, Hayes knew neither of them would last much longer. He could feel his orgasm growing in his stomach, every touch bringing him closer to the edge. Hayes came first, burying his head in the crook of his neck and biting down on the soft skin. Reed followed soon after, eyes flickering shut and moans falling from his mouth. If this had been a fight, Reed was the winner. Hayes didn’t mind losing.

They didn’t speak about it. Reed had an arm over his eyes. Hayes watched his chest rise and fall as he grabbed the damp towel and cleaned his stomach. Maybe Reed mouthed _thank you_ , or maybe it was just a shuddering breath. He accepted the water bottle when Hayes offered it, sitting up to take deep draughts. Hayes traced his body with his eyes, lingering on the shadow of a bruise on his neck from his bite. Would the uniform hide it? He took another sip of moonshine, offering it to Reed.

‘We should eat something. It’s late, isn’t it?’ Reed emptied the hip flask and looked at Hayes in earnest.

‘It’s dark out. I’ll get us some ration packs.’ They ate in silence. Neither of them made a move to get dressed, but nor did they make any move for further intimacy. ‘Do you think the training exercise will be successful?’

‘If they stay away from river bank, yes.’ Hayes chuckled and even Reed smiled. ‘When are the transports coming?’

‘Daybreak. We should probably get some rest. Do you think we should set up a perimeter?’

Reed shook his head.

‘Don’t think it’s necessary. There are no large animals and we’ve found no evidence of intelligent life. Did you set up the proximity beacon?’ Hayes nodded. ‘Then we’re good. Sleep’s more important.’

‘Very good, sir.’ It was Reed’s turn to chuckle. He was lying down again, hands under his head. He was watching Hayes with an air of wonder, as though trying to figure him out. Hayes had been trying to do the same ever since he met him. He was no closer to understanding him.

‘Should we sleep?’

They slept together, limbs entangled and warmth shared. The night was cold, or so Hayes told himself. Reed didn’t complain when he lay down next to him, putting an arm over him and resting his face between his shoulder blades. They slept well.

 

* * *

 

They were side by side, watching the shuttlepods descend. Reed held up a hand to keep the sun out of his eyes. Hayes glanced over at him. He was back in his uniform, which somehow had dried during the night. It was zipped up all the way up, hiding the mark he had left. Hayes had his uniform jacket slung over his shoulder, the morning sun warmer than he expected. They didn’t touch. They hadn’t touched since waking up together, disentangling themselves without talking. He wondered if they ever would.

When the shuttles set down, they approached the landing site. Captain Archer was the first to step out, followed by a complement of MACOs and Starfleet crew.

‘Lieutenant. Major. Anything to report?’

Reed glanced over at Hayes, and Hayes would be damned if that wasn’t a smirk on his face. The lieutenant turned back to the captain, his expression neutral yet again.

‘No sir. Nothing to report.’


End file.
